Innuendo
by Wravyn
Summary: Angel changed to a bed, hehe.


Disclaimer: The characters and situation stemmed from the genius of Joss   
Whedon . . . but the words and events are mine.  
  
Distribution: The Scribes, of course, can have it. It's going up on my   
site sooner or later, too. Anyone else, just ask.  
  
Dedication: To Melissa Rae, who inspires me.  
  
Notes: I remember way back when Eternity first came out, someone issued a   
challenge for a story based on this innuendo-filled scene. Well, I finally   
got around to reading the transcripts, and I decided to take a shot at   
writing the incident that "might have been." I didn't want to go overboard,   
so here's what came out. Innuendo enough? Yes? No? Drop me a line and   
tell me what you think. (fudgy_sundae@hotmail.com)  
  
  
Innuendo  
  
  
It was night. Around him, the room was pitch black – or close to it. Angel   
lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling in contemplation. He thought about   
a lot of things during times like these – times when he could simply lie   
quietly, dormant, and not have to worry about the troubles of the world   
outside his room outside him. These times were few and far apart, so he   
when they did come, he could appreciate what ironic beauty there was in the   
moments – the vampire with a soul who was working for redemption lying   
peacefully in bed, not moving a muscle, waiting for someone to save him from   
his woes, and not the other way around. Figuratively speaking? Not quite.  
  
He flexed his arm experimentally and winced a little as the chains that were   
bound around him tightly cut into his skin.  
  
The door to his room opened with a crack, and he smiled imperceptibly as he   
recognized the hazy silhouette standing in the threshold. "Hey."  
  
"Hey."  
  
The figure by the door went all the way in and closed it behind her. She   
did not turn on the lights, for whatever reason of hers, but Angel had seen   
her outlined by the brief display of light – and anyway, hers was a face   
imprinted in his memory. It was, of course, his good friend Cordelia. One   
of the two good friends of his who shackled him to the bed in the first   
place . . . Huh.  
  
"Are you gonna untie me now?"  
  
It was hard to tell, but then again, his eyes were by then used to the   
gloomy darkness – helped a little by his exceptional night-vision – so he   
could see her smile even from across the room.  
  
"That all depends on you, Mr. Happy. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Not too happy at the moment, but I'm dealing. After all, it's not the   
first time I've been chained up to my own bed before."  
  
Her mouth twisted wryly at his statement. "Ha, ha. You know the other time   
doesn't count. It was for the safety of all mankind, in case you were gonna   
cut loose and go on a killing spree . . . kind of like this time, actually."   
She approached his bed and looked down at him, trying to suppress a laugh.  
  
He looked up at her beseechingly – it was all he could do under the   
circumstances, really. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But I'm over it. Drug-induced   
happiness has never really been my thing, and I'll never let it happen   
again."  
  
She tilted her head slightly to one side and smiled. "Mmm hmm . . . not even if   
another beautiful failing actress spikes your   
drink with . . . whatever it is beautiful failing actresses spike drinks   
with to get stoic and broody vampires to turn her."  
  
"Not even then."  
  
"Uh huh." She stuck her tongue out at him and changed the subject. "I   
brought you a drink," she said, holding up a baggie full of blood. "Can you   
manage?"  
  
His nostrils flared at the scent. "I'll manage. You'll have to help me . .   
. maybe by untying me?"  
  
"Not a chance."  
  
She sat down on his bed gently, avoiding the massive links running across   
over and around him. He lifted his head to the packet she held carefully by   
his mouth. He glanced at her, but she was purposely staring into the   
distance. He vamped out and gulped down the blood thirstily. When he was   
done, she removed the baggie and placed it on his nightstand.  
  
"Let me go now?" he pleaded.  
  
She turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, Angel. I kind of   
like seeing you all tied up and helpless like this." She smiled wickedly.   
"It gives me a sense of power over my boss."  
  
"How bout if I give you that raise?"  
  
She considered the offer, then shook her head. "Nah. I can get you to do   
that without resorting to bondage. I've got to take advantage of this   
situation." She winked at him and ran her fingers over his chest teasingly.  
  
"Cordy!"  
  
"Well you *are* kind of yummy for someone who's older than my Great-Aunt Maude,   
Angel."  
  
He laughed. "Thank you."  
  
She nodded in acquiescence. "Can't blame a girl for looking."  
  
She stared down at him musingly for a moment, and he let her, taking the   
time to stare right back at the . . . uh . . . pleasing countenance . . . of   
his irritatingly likeable secretary. She laughed suddenly. "I know I'm   
gorgeous, Angel. You don't have to say it." She tossed back her dark hair   
and smiled down at him prettily. "No, actually, do. I like to hear it. It   
boosts my ego, and it seems to have taken a beating earlier today . . ." She   
cleared her throat significantly.  
  
He sighed at the reference to what Angelus had cruelly said earlier.   
"You're gorgeous, Cordy."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Can't blame a guy for looking."  
  
"No," she said thoughtfully. "You can't."  
  
She leaned over him then and pressed a soft, sweet kiss onto his forehead   
before standing up from the bed. "Come join us outside, when you feel like   
it, Angel," she said, avoiding his startled gaze. "Wesley wants to take me   
on in Scrabble and I'm going to need some rescuing."  
  
"Very funny, Cordelia," he called after her. The door swung shut and he was   
alone in the darkness again.  
  
He lifted his head and stared at the closed door, wondering what had just   
happened. Then he dropped his head back onto the pillow and let out a quiet   
groan. He stared up at the ceiling again. Looks like it was back to   
contemplating.  
  
It was going to be a long night and he was already getting fidgety . . .  
  
His fingers brushed something on the bed. He picked it up curiously and it   
let out a rattle.  
  
Two minutes later he was outside with the others, playing with Cordy against   
Wesley in a winner-take-all Scrabble match. They won.  
  
END 


End file.
